


Think and Breathe

by TheAsexualofSpades



Series: Quarantine Drabbles [98]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Burnout - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, RK900 is named Nines, can be platonic or romantic you decide, gavin pls take care of yourself pls, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades
Summary: Think, think, think, why couldn’t he just fucking think?It's not the first of these cases. It won't be the last. He's done this before. He's lived through this before.So why can't Gavin fucking think?
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: Quarantine Drabbles [98]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677655
Comments: 4
Kudos: 138





	Think and Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> bitch go get u some self-care

Fandom: DBH

Prompt: “Hey, don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

* * *

Think, think, _think,_ why couldn’t he just fucking _think?_

Gavin paced around the west door of the precinct, fingers shaking too hard to light his fucking cigarette, sending flame after flame hissing out in the cold night air. He cursed under his breath, the rage and the cold only make the tremors worse. Another fucking flame goes out and he dropped his cigarette in a dirty puddle.

“Son of a bitch!” And there went his lighter too. Gavin stooped, fishing his lighter out of the freezing puddle, barely even wincing at the frigid water. “That was my last one.”

Indeed, the empty pack of cigarettes sat not a few feet away, taunting Gavin with the promise of a temporary distraction. Now he only had the wind whipping against his cracked skin and the frustration boiling in his gut to distract him.

He really just needed to fucking _think._

He resumed his pacing, taking out his frustration on the cracked pavement beneath his feet. His boots slapped angrily against the ground, the sounds echoing up and around the walls of the alleyway. He jammed his now useless hands into his pockets, brow ironed into a permanent crease as he suk his chin further into his jacket collar. The fucking cold reached its fingers _into_ his fucking jacket. He hunched his shoulders defiantly to try and keep it out.

It hurt.

Maybe that would be enough.

And yet when ten minutes had passed and Gavin still couldn’t fucking think, he turned to something else.

He shoved his back up against the wall and cursed, cursed his body for not throwing him hard enough, cursed his hands for shaking so damn much, cursed his brain for being unable to think.

This case just pissed him off too much.

He’d never tell any of the others, not that it would make much of a difference. They probably figured it out after the twelfth time. Don’t give Gavin Reed cases about child abuse that’ve been tied up in red tape. Unfortunately for him, he had the best track record when it came to these fucking cases. He’d bet it was because he _got_ the most of them.

“There is never a reason to leave a child in an abusive home,” Gavin growled to himself, “ _never._ ”

This fucking case just really fucking sucked. The suspect was too fucking rich, the other cops too fucking lazy to _do_ what they needed to do, and his damned partner too fucking stuck up his own ass to realize that the law was only gonna do so much.

Gaven gritted his teeth and pressed his head harder against the wall. The indents and loose rocks protested against the soft skin of his scalp but he paid them no mind.

He needed to _think._

He didn’t have time for this bullshit. He didn’t have time to be throwing a goddamn tantrum in a back alleyway while there was _work_ to do. Gavin cursed. What the hell was he even _doing_ if he couldn’t do his work? If this happened every _fucking_ time—and it pretty much did happen _every fucking time_ he got one of these cases—how long would it be until he wasn’t allowed to work ‘em anymore?

He had faith in his department, sure, but there were some things that you can’t be fucking _taught._ You just can’t. You gotta learn them, firsthand, and learn ‘em fast or be chewed up and spit out onto the cold, damp streets.

Gavin learned. Gavin learned _young._

But the fact that he knows is a double-edged sword because not only does he know but he _knows._

Which would explain why he was outside, in the middle of the night, pressing himself against a rough and jagged wall, unable to think.

It hurt.

He balled his hands into fists and felt the lining of his pockets wheeze in protest. He didn’t care. It was the only thing stopping his nails from digging into his hands so he kept them there. He couldn’t fucking _think._

It was cold, damnit. The wall wasn’t exactly _soft._ The lining of his pockets wasn’t super thick or anything. And his lighter still worked.

This was supposed to _help,_ damnit.

“Detective?”

“No, you fucking asshole,” Gavin groaned on reflex when he heard his partner’s voice. The second it came out of his mouth, he realized what he’d done and just fucking gave up, leaning against the wall, head thrown back.

He heard the tin can come around the corner, the measured sounds of his footsteps as he approached Gavin.

“There you are,” he said, “I was looking for you.”

“Told you I needed a smoke,” Gavin grumbled.

“…you are not smoking, Detective.”

“Wow, those stellar powers of observation really comin’ through, aren’t they,” Gavin said, rolling his head around, “bang-up job there, tin can.”

“Thank you.”

Gavin cursed, opening his eyes and glaring at the android who had _no business_ looking as calm and collected as he fucking did. Damn thing probably didn’t care at all, that’s why this was so fucking easy for him.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just having the _knowledge_ with none of these fucking emotional strings attached.

“Detective Reed?”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“You’ve been out here for nearly half an hour,” the tin can said smoothly, tilting his head to the side, “much longer than your usual smoke breaks.”

“Yeah well, like I said.” Gavin hunched in on himself. “Needed to think.”

“Is it working?”

“No, it’s not _fucking_ working,” Gavin muttered, “and I really, _really_ want it to fucking work.”

The alleyway was really fucking cold, wasn’t it?

“Detective.”

Gavin ignored him. Maybe he’d go away.

“ _Gavin,_ ” came the voice again. The tone of it startled Gavin enough to make him open his eyes.

The android was staring at him with its eyes wide, reaching for his…face?

“What the hell’re you doing, tin can,” Gavin said, instinctively trying to pull away. He didn’t move fast enough, or he didn’t realize how far the thing could fucking _reach,_ but his thumb brushed Gavin’s temple. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

“You’re bleeding, Gavin.”

Was he? Gavin swiped a hand up to his head.

It came away tinged with red.

“Oh,” Gavin managed as the cold finally gave way to another type of ache. It still wasn’t working. He still couldn’t think.

“Hey,” he realized the android was saying, “don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Gavin realized that the android was trying to pull him away from the wall. As he stared at the red on his hand, his head had rolled around to press directly into one of the missing chunks of brick, right over the wound.

Gavin blinked.

Wow, it was really fucking _cold,_ wasn’t it? His hands shook in his partner’s hold, unable to grab anything until Nines pulled his body away from the wall. He’d deny the confused sound that made it out of his throat later, too busy trying to figure out _where the fucking android was taking him._

But Nines didn’t go far. He just led Gavin closer to the door, leaving him up against a smoother part of the wall near the door. He produced…something from his jacket pocket and lifted it to Gavin’s head.

_A handkerchief,_ Gavin marveled distantly, _the fucking thing’s got his own handkerchief._

The material was soft, a stark contrast to the sharp wall, as it cleaned Gavin’s head. Gavin frowned. What the hell was _happening?_

He still couldn’t fucking think.

“No,” Nines said softly when Gavin reached up to scratch at his head, intercepting the detective’s clawed hand with his free one. “It will hurt.”

“It fucking itches, you prick.”

“That’s because it’s trying to heal. Now hold still.”

Gavin growled, trying to free his hand. “Let me scratch my head, you fucking asshole.”

“No,” Nines replied easily, holding Gavin’s hand firmly, “you’ll make it worse.”

“So fucking what?”

Nines paused momentarily, looking down to meet Gavin’s enraged gaze. He blinked. Then he shifted the handkerchief to stroke over the unbloodied side of Gavin’s head with his thumb. The tenderness of the gesture undermined Gavin’s rage in two soft movements.

“You would hurt yourself more,” Nines murmured, “that’s ‘so fucking what.’”

Nines went back to carefully cleaning off Gavin’s forehead, leaving Gavin unable to fucking do _anything_ except stand there and let Nines clean his head and hold his hand. Why was he letting this happen? It wasn't helping him think. All it was doing was help him stop breathing like—

Oh hey, when had he started hyperventilating?

That was fucking rude of his lungs, he should be notified whenever they decide to go into maximum fucking overdrive.

Nines didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause. Just came a little closer to Gavin, shielding him from the worst of the wind, tapping out the 4-7-8 rhythm on the back of Gavin’s hand. He didn’t force Gavin to look at him, didn’t stare Gavin down as he started breathing with the rhythm, just kept carefully cleaning his forehead.

What the _fuck._

Something inside Gavin snapped and the tension abruptly faded from his body, sending him staggering into the wall for support. Nines caught him, deftly tucking the handkerchief away and steadying Gavin with his hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me, Detective,” he said softly, waiting until Gavin’s head lolled up to meet Nines’ gaze, “good. Now, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Gavin mumbled, “don’t worry about it.”

“Too late,” Nines supplied, giving Gavin’s shoulders a gentle squeeze, “so you can tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“If it is making you behave like this, it is not stupid.”

“Nines,” Gavin mumbled, tearing his gaze away from the android’s piercing gaze, “it’s _fine.”_

Nines was silent for a moment.

“Is it related to our case, Gavin?”

“Of fucking course it is,” Gavin mumbled, slumping in Nines’ hold, “I hate these things.”

“I know.” Nines turned him slightly so his back rested against the wall instead of his shoulder. “It’s perfectly understandable.”

Gavin snorted. “Is it? Can’t remember how many of these fucking things I’ve had—“

“Several dozen in the past decade.”

Gavin waved his hand feebly. “There you fuckin’ go then. I should be fucking used to it by now, shouldn’t I?”

“On the contrary,” Nines said, “the fact that you are not is a good thing.”

Gavin squinted up at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If the nature of these cases, _these_ cases, in particular,” NInes explained carefully, “did not affect you at all, that might indicate a much bigger problem. The fact that you are still disturbed by the content of them is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Gavin frowned. “Isn’t it a fucking problem if I can’t get my head on straight long enough to actually _do_ them?”

“As I’m sure you would remind me at any other time, getting your head on ‘straight’ is a possibility I must never anticipate.”

It startled one hell of a laugh out of him, that’s for damn sure. Nines smiled slightly at the noise, before directing Gavin’s attention back to the matter at hand.

“This job is stressful at the best of times,” he said quietly, “these cases even more so. Considering your own background with—“

“I get it.”

“—these things,” Nines amended, “no one can blame you for needing to take a moment here and there to take care of yourself.”

“But—“

“No, Gavin,” Nines interrupted smoothly, fixing Gavin with a look, “you do. If you continue working without giving yourself time to _recover_ from it, you will only burn yourself out. And then who will solve the case?”

“You will,” Gavin mumbled, looking away. Come on. His partner was the most sophisticated fucking android Cyberlife had ever developed. A gentle finger guided his gaze back to Nines’.

“I am not so sure it would be as successful without you there too.”

Gavin scoffed. “The hell you mean, tin can?”

“I have data,” Nines said, “information. As you’ve said before, I can’t always apply it to a situation the way you can. I don’t have the natural instincts that come with the emotional aspect of the process.”

“That’s one way to fucking put it,” Gavin grumbled.

“I don’t mean to make light of your past, Gavin,” Nines said gently, “but _you_ know that it helps you sometimes. It gives you an added assistance in what to look for, how to navigate difficult situations. You know what to do because you’ve been there before.”

“Apparently it also makes me do this—“ Gavin waved at the cold, damp alleyway— “so there’s that too.”

“Yes,” Nines said, “but there’s nothing wrong with that. You are getting overwhelmed because this case is overwhelming. You are getting frustrated because you care about the wellbeing of the people involved and you do not want them getting hurt. And you are being reminded of your trauma every second of it.”

Nines took a step closer, hand intertwining with Gavin’s again.

“This does not make you bad at your job, nor is it something to be ashamed of. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

And all Gavin could do was stare up at Nines in disbelief.

“What are you, my fucking therapist?”

Nines shook his head, smiling lightly. “I am your partner, concerned about your wellbeing. And I am your friend, here to help.”

For the first time, Gavin felt Nines’ warmth. In his hand, on his shoulder, in the small puffs of air that touched the sore spot on his head.

“…still can’t fucking think,” he managed.

“It’s late,” Nines said quietly, “and you are tired. Please, come inside and let’s get you home.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Gavin mumbled when Nines started moving him, “what…why’re you doin’ this?”

“Well, I can’t have my partner out here, bleeding, now can I?”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh. That’s all of it, then?”

Nines softened, tilting his head and giving Gavin’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Maybe you really have been out of it,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “if you haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

Nines shook his head. “Not now. When the case is over.”

“Giving me more incentive then, huh?”

Nines smiled, pulling Gavin against him as they walked inside. “Always, Detective. Now, go get your coat. I’m taking you home.”

“At least buy me a drink first,” Gavin mumbled, leaving the warmth of Nines to make his way to his desk. Nines waited by the door, watching him go with a soft smile.

“After the case, Detective,” he said softly, “after the case.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr while we're all in quarantine. 
> 
> https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/


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